


4:08 p.m.

by sorta_sirius_black



Series: Creative Writing Course 2016 [2]
Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6538291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorta_sirius_black/pseuds/sorta_sirius_black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nigel's late. Adam's worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	4:08 p.m.

**Author's Note:**

> I pretty much had to write a shit ton of monologue for this assignment and I can't do first person very well but I apparently can do Adam okay, I think.

It is 4:00 p.m. He should’ve been here by now.

I check my watch again and a small, nervous sound slips past my lips as I bounce on the balls of my feet. He’s late. Why is he late? He's never late.

He always comes by at 4:00 p.m. on the dot. Always. Always, always, always. He gets out of class and he slips out the back door and he comes and he meets me in the courtyard and he smokes a cigarette and he listens to me talk about space. Always, always, always. This has been our routine for the past… Almost a year. 

I like Nigel. I’ve always liked Nigel. I don’t know why. Harlan doesn’t like Nigel. Neither does my dad. He’s bigger than I am, and he gets into a lot of fights, and he curses a lot, and he smokes a lot, but I don’t really care. He likes to listen while I talk about things that no one else wants to listen to. I know that people don’t always like to listen to me because I go on for too long, and I get too excited about things, and I sometimes talk too fast, and people can’t always really keep up very well. I’m not really sure how well Nigel actually keeps up, or how much he understands, but he says that he wants to hear me talk. He likes to listen. 

I believe him. 

I know people will sometimes lie, fake interest for my sake, because they pity me. But I don’t need pity. I’m not a child. I’m not incompetent. But they’ll tell me they’re interest, and because I can’t tell one way or the other, can’t tell if they’re really interested, I end up feeling self-conscious. But when Nigel says that he wants to listen to me talk, I believe him. Really believe him. 

He wouldn’t come back every day to listen to me talk if he wasn’t actually interested. Right?

Maybe he was done. Maybe he was bored. Maybe I messed up and talked too much and ended up expecting too much and ended up pushing him away. Maybe I ended up irritating him and I pushed away yet another friend and I messed up. _Dumb Adam, dumb, dumb Adam. Why would anyone hang out with poor, dumb, autistic Adam?_

I tell my insecurities to shut up and bite down on my lip.

I check my watch again. 4:08 p.m. 

Where is he? 

I wring my hands and begin to pace out of habit. Out of a need to get rid of some of this energy. This nervousness. I remind myself that it’ll be okay, and that just because routine is a little bit fractured, the world isn’t going to end. That’s what my dad always tells me. He says that not everyone is quite as punctual as I am. But it doesn’t stop the nervousness as my mind starts racing, too fast, too fast. What if this is my fault? What if he’s done with me? What if he doesn’t like me anymore? What if I ruined this for us? 

I find myself pressed against the hard brick walls of our high school. The familiar, almost-pleasant, almost-painful jab stings against my palms as I run them up and down the brick, scraping my arms and hands, lining them with small, red lines. The pain is distracting from my thoughts, so it’s enough to calm me down, even if just a little. 

“Sparrow?” The familiar voice called. 

I bolt up from the wall and my eyes find the Romanian, standing a few feet away. 

“Nigel!” I call back, my spirits lifting. 

“What’s the matter, sparrow?” 

He walks toward me quickly, every bit of him familiar. He pulls his pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his shirt, the blue one that’s covered in Dachshunds. The first time he wore that shirt, I ended up telling him about my mom’s old dog, Emmy, who was a Dachshund. He listened, just like he always did, but he seemed slightly more engaged in conversation than normal. Usually, he just listens, but on that day, he talked a little more. Laughed a little more. I really like when I make him laugh because he has a really nice laugh. And a really nice smile. The way his lips turn up, and whenever his teeth show… It’s a very nice smile.

He’s not smiling now. Now, he has a… Maybe a frown. I don’t really know what it means. It’s the same kind of look when my dad hears that I didn’t eat lunch, or when Harlan finds out that I got rejected by another girl. I think the look could be concern. I don’t really know.

“You were late.” I tell him. 

“Class ran late, sparrow. And then Gabi wanted to talk about something.” He explained before quickly pulling me into a tight embrace. He’d never really done that before. 

“I thought you weren’t coming.” I whisper into his chest.

“Always, sparrow. I’m always going to fucking be here. I’m sorry.” 

I just nod.

His touch lingers.

I like it.

Finally, he pulls away. I don’t want him to. An urge pulls over me to reach up and kiss him. I would. I would love to kiss him, love to pull him down and feel his smiling lips against mine. It’d be nice. It’d be nice to hold him close like that. I’ve never kissed a boy before. I’ve kissed girls. My old girlfriend, Beth Buchwald. I kissed her. But I’ve never kissed a boy. I want to now. But I can’t because Nigel has a really pretty girlfriend named Gabi who he loves. 

“Are you okay?” I ask once he pulls away. He doesn’t hug me often, and today he seems… Different. Maybe a little bit upset. 

“I’m fine, sparrow. I just… I found out from Darko... Um... Gabi’s been fucking cheating on me. Some twerp named Charlie fucking Countryman. I’m… Um…”

He’s struggling to find words. Rubbing the back of his neck. Not looking at me. He’s upset. I can see that he’s upset. But I don’t really know what to do to fix it. To make him feel better. I don’t know how to fix it. But I feel something flip in my chest and I just… Do it.

I kiss him.

It’s a short kiss, but a kiss nonetheless. 

His lips taste like smoke and cigarettes and salt, strong and bitter but overwhelmingly comforting, much like Nigel himself. He’s surprised for a second, I think. He tenses under my touch and I think about pulling away, telling him I’m sorry and moving on. But I decide against pulling away when he melts against me, his muscles no longer tense and his eyes drifting closed, like it’s okay. 

I pull away.

He’s staring in absolute shock, eyes wide, mouth hanging open slightly. I can tell what that look is. It isn’t hard to identify. My eyes find the ground as I hang my head. That wasn’t a good decision. It was too spontaneous, and I didn’t know if he even wanted it, and…

“I’m sorry.” I mutter quickly.

“No, sparrow, I-“ 

His hand wraps around my wrists and he pulls me back. This time I’m the one that’s surprised when he kisses me, holding me close… His lips against mine, his heart hammering beneath my fingers… My mind goes blank except for the way that he smells, the way that he tastes, the way that his body molds against mine…

He pulls away. 

“Now, sparrow. Tell me more about this dog star you were telling me about yesterday.”


End file.
